


what khaki won't cover

by beatrixfranklin



Category: Call the Midwife
Genre: F/F, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-18
Updated: 2020-09-18
Packaged: 2021-03-08 04:15:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,487
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26529595
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beatrixfranklin/pseuds/beatrixfranklin
Summary: at nineteen, valerie elizabeth dyer is on a ship to germany to finish her training as a medic for the army. she's used to running, after all.
Comments: 4
Kudos: 10





	1. 1.

Valerie Dyer is used to running. From herself, from her family, from her secrets. She needs order, an excuse to run and be away for months and, if the cards were dealt, never return. That’s how, at nineteen, she’s on the boat to West Germany, her final post before she’s shipped off into the thick of things.

She lies atop her bunk, tracing the cream paint of the ceiling, her head churning like the waves right outside the porthole at the far wall. There’s a lot to escape, to start afresh from. Nobody knows who she is, minus her name and her rank. She’d like to keep it that way too- besides, there are parts they aren’t allowed to know, or rather that she isn’t allowed to share.

Valerie Elizabeth Dyer, Queen Alexandra's Army Corp, Medic. That’s it. Her accent paints her place of origin but they know nothing of the things she’s seen, the things she’s done, or the things she leaves behind. That is for the better.

In the morning they will dock at Hamburg, the furthest Valerie has ever been from home. Anxiety bubbles in the pit of her stomach at that thought as it passes through her mind. She doesn’t know how far away from Poplar she will end up, and while part of her hopes it is far, rationality keeps a small home in her heart. She will write home, to her gran at least, and ensure that she of all people knows that her middle granddaughter is safe. If she is safe, at least.

Valerie turns, swallowing tears that are threatening. She huddles under the paper-thin, olive tinted blanket, coarse wool that itches at her face. She feels her weary body rise and fall with the waves below. Heavy eyelids close at last.

~

_“Why would you even think of doing somethin’ like that?”_

_Her mother’s tone is sharp, yet holds fear that the words do not convey. Val stands before her, a hopeful smile wiped clean and replaced by guilt. A brochure is pinned between her slender fingers, held close to the girl who holds it, who took it, read every word over and over, filled with hope._

_“It’s what I want,” she begins, indignant but respectful. June shakes her head. Behind her, the front door opens, revealing Valerie’s two oldest sisters, Flora and Elsie._

_“What’s happened?” asks Flora, her face a painted canvas of concern at her mothers’ tears._

_“Val’s runnin’ off to the army,” replies June bluntly._

_“You are?” asks the older girl, looking her sister directly in the eye. Despite their age gap, seventeen-year-old Val stands almost taller than her older sisters._

_“Yes. Not to fight. To nurse.” she says quickly, defending herself where nobody else will, or really ever has. Elsie shakes her head, taking a seat at the table as she unlaces her boots._

_“You could nurse here, Val. Go be one of them Nonnatuns. Then you’d be here, not in bloody gunfire.”_

_“Why can’t you all just be happy? There’s plenty of women in the army, and besides, them Nonnatuns don’t want girls like me. Like us.” Val replies, her arms folded, slightly crumpling the printed leaflet in her hands._

_“What the blinkin’ hell is that meant to mean?” Flora implores, matching Valerie’s stand-offish stance._

_“You know what I mean. They’re all nuns and posh twats. Rich girls.” spits Val, making an advance for the door, forcing herself between Flora and June._

_“That’s it, run off like always. Leave mum in a state!” shouts Elsie after her. Val tucks the leaflet into the pocket of her dress, turning the handle and leaving._

_She lets the door slam in her wake._

~

“Up and out, ladies, up and out!”

The wake-up call is, undoubtedly, Val’s least favourite sound.

The barking of the sergeant, the heavy brass bell that doesn’t relent until every woman has gotten out of her bunk. She rubs the sleep from her eyes, giving herself a second to adjust. Outside, the waves are still inky, without the sun to heat them and reveal their glittering patterns. Foam claws at the porthole as they rise and fall, approaching their port.

As she pulls on her uniform, fiddling with buttons, she can’t help but think how relieved she will be to finally get a shower. Granted, it will be cold, lukewarm at best if she’s first in and the sun has blessed the tank, but it will be something.

Washing away the dirt of Poplar. The Valerie of Poplar.

As she gulps her way through oatmeal, Valerie lets herself think. Germany is her last dose of freedom. Sure, she completes her training, but her nights are free and she is granted off days. Although not the most glamorous place in the world, she will grasp it in both hands, make the most of it, before her deployment in six weeks' time. She glances around the breakfast hall, rows and rows of slicked-back buns in every colour imaginable. Valerie runs a hand over her own greased brunette scalp, ensuring there’s not a hair or a wisp misbehaving.

Her mother did her hair until she was 13, two braids falling down her back, adorned with bows of every colour and pattern, cut from the same fabric as Val’s lovingly made dresses. As she matured, Valerie preferred a simple ponytail, messy at first from her own hand, slowly becoming more uniform and perfected as she learned. June insisted it stay long, feminine, although given the choice Val would have preferred it short at her shoulders.

She sighs at the memory, swallowing the last of her oatmeal and chasing it with the lukewarm water. All that fills her head is the buzzing chatter of the hall.


	2. 2.

Valerie takes her neatly folded uniform, packing it tightly into her army issue duffle. 

“What do you reckon it’s like?” she asks, generally, as opposed to aiming the question at anyone, perching on the edge of her now stripped bunk.

“From what I’ve heard, we’re in for a surprise.” answers a tall girl from across the room, lighting up a cigarette as she does so. Val swallows. 

“There’s a reason we won.” comes another response from a blonde sitting with a couple of other women across the way.

“Right.” she sighs a little. They’re waiting for the ship to dock, for their post to officially begin. There’s no imminent danger, yet chills run down Valerie’s spine as though she’s heading into active battle. 

Most of the women she waits with now are her age, bright-eyed, fresh-faced teenage girls. Some are mechanics, some medics like Val, and some will, in a few months, drive the trucks directly to the front of war-torn areas, supplying men with rations and ammunition. 

A few women, who mostly group together, are from clearly privileged backgrounds. They don’t share the bunks with the girls like Val- they’re separate, special. Valerie always finds it odd how even in a job that relies so much on teamwork and on being one body, there are still these differences. Still, it is unchanging as the waves of the port. 

~

_ Val’s running, although she doesn’t remember starting. Her boots are wearing thin at her toes and they pinch at her skin as she sprints through the cobbled streets. Skinny and nimble in stature, she always finds herself beating even the boys her age in the different events they do at school. _

_ She turns the corner, seeing the familiar street and block of flats that lay upon it. The flowerbeds outside give her temporary relief as she leans against them, taking a few deep breaths to calm herself. The glass doors open as she puts her entire body weight against them, climbing the stairs to the flat she’s trekked to more times than she can count. _

_ Val knocks once, twice, three times, as she always does. _

_ “Gran?” she calls, her breath still unsteady, “You in?”  _

_ There’s no reply. She slumps against the wall, knees held to her chest, finally letting go of the tears she’s held from her own home to here. _

~

Valerie is walking through the streets of Germany, at last, with her feet on solid ground. She links arms with Maria, a quiet, redheaded girl she’s become acquainted with over her training period. People watch as they pass, out of curiosity, not of fear. They don't march- there’s no need, they’re only here for training after all. 

Instead, they are allowed to be curious young girls, soaking in the sun, the air, the flower sellers whistles, and the sight of the children running and laughing in the park.

“This is all so different,” says Maria, engrossed in the passing streets.

“You’re certainly right there,” replies Val, letting her step fall into sync with her friend. 

“Hat, Private Dyer!” comes a sudden booming voice from behind the pair. Valerie realizes her bobby pins have slipped, thrusting her duffle into Maria’s arms as she giggles.

“You and that bloody hat, Val,” Maria says, trying to hide her grin from the sergeant striding behind the platoon. 

“Don’t think people are too bothered about me hat when I’m out saving their lives,” Val smirks, taking her duffle back from Maria. Their arms link again, steps synchronised as the makeshift training facility comes into view.

~

_ Val isn’t sure how long she’s been sitting with her back pressed against the wall, but she’s starting to ache.  _

_ “Oh, chick! How long have you been sat?”  _

_ Val’s head whips up at the voice, as she blinks away tears to see her gran standing in the hallway, wrapped in the plum coat which Valerie admires so much. She moves to stand in front of Valerie, dropping the two shopping bags she holds and kneeling in front of her granddaughter. _

_ “What’s gone on?” she asks, watching Val’s face drop again, tears threatening, “Let’s get you into the warm and pop the kettle on, eh?”  _

_ Val nods, wrapping her arms around her gran. She buries her face in Elsie’s coat, breathes in her flowery perfume. Her tears slowly stop. _

~

“As I’m sure you’re all aware, this is your final milestone before deployment.” 

Sergeant Miller, a stoic, broad woman who stands even taller than Valerie, addresses the group. It’s fifty women strong at most, split into its separate specialties. Valerie stands with the medics, Maria included. Her hands are held behind her back, as they should be in formation, although she’s restless, always has been. She fidgets, picks at her nails slyly, folds her fingers over one another. 

She jumps slightly at a jab in her spine.

“No fidgeting in formation, Private.” hisses another cold woman from behind her. Val blinks, staring straight ahead. She feels her cheeks burn as she sighs, zoning out again.

~

_ Val sits at Elsie’s kitchen table, a mug in front of her, steam climbing out and dissolving into the air. On a saucer sits two of her favourite biscuits- bourbons, usually saved for best. She nibbles gently at the edge of one, feeling her stomach turn before she returns it to the saucer.  _

_ “Tell me then, what’s this about?” asks Elsie, gently, holding her own mug of tea to her face. Val reaches into her pocket, producing the army brochure that is now crumpled and torn. Elsie takes it, reading over it briefly. _

_ “It’s what I want to do,” Val begins, hesitant. The blow-up from earlier still rings clearly in her mind, although she knows that in her entire seventeen years, she’s heard her gran raise her voice a number of times she can count on one hand. “Nursing.”  _

_ Elsie nods,  _

_ “Take it your mums not too pleased, then?” she asks, still soaking in the printed words. Val shakes her head. _

_ “She says I’m selfish,” she says, her voice wobbling a little. “It’s what I really want to do, Gran. I’d get to see the world and help people at the same time.”  _

_ Elsie nods again. _

_ “It’s certainly brave, chicken.” she inhales, sliding the brochure across the table again. “But if it’s what you want, I’ll be here. Always.” She beckons Val over, wrapping her in her arms, stroking her long brunette waves. She plants a gentle kiss to her hair, letting Val cling on as long as she needs to. _

_ “Drink your tea and have your biccies, then we’ll get you home.”  _

_ Val shakes her head abruptly. _

_ “Can I stay tonight?” she asks quietly, timidly. Elsie never says no. _

_ “We’ll let your mum know, still.”  _

~

Quiet study means sitting next to Maria and chatting. Diagrams of the human anatomy only entertain for so long.

“What’s the plan for later, then?” asks Val, scribbling down notes on the detailed extract on bullet removal. Maria shrugs, 

“I think I’ll lay low tonight,” she answers, clearly still fatigued or numb from the sea.

“It’s our first night in Germany, Maria,” begins Val, looking up from her papers.

“Exactly. We’re here for six weeks, Valerie.” sighs the ginger. Val frowns, resting her cheek on her hand. “You don’t have to do everything at once, you know?” continues Maria, smiling at Valerie.

“I suppose.” replies the brunette, staring down at her book. 

~

_ Valerie suddenly snaps awake, her heart racing and her forehead beading with sweat. The soft blue pillowcase and duvet tell her she isn’t home, and she bundles it to her chest, hugging it for comfort. The closed-door muffles the commotion outside very little. _

_ “I can’t believe you, of all people, support it, mother!” she hears her mother's voice, thick with tears yet as angry as it was earlier on. _

_ “You’re acting as if she’s gonna be selling herself! She’s goin’ to a respectable career, June!”  _

_ Val tiptoes, padding along the corridor, sitting outside the kitchen door. She peeks around the cracking door frame, only a little, seeing her mother and gran stood in a standoff, like two bulls locking horns.  _

_ June scoffs, _

_ “Respectable to who?” she asks, arms folded.  _

_ “It’d be a damn sight better than what your Vincent got himself into!”  _

_ Val’s heart sinks at the mention of her dad. She doesn’t know much about him, only his name, and that he never did them any good. That’s why she’s a Dyer, why they all are. It’s Elsie’s name, and she’s proud to have it. She sees her mother's face drop, her stance folding. _

_ “That wasn’t necessary.” she chokes out. _

_ “Our girl wants to make a name for herself. She wants to see the world. Stop blaming her for it.” says Elsie, tone firm yet empathetic. June sighs. _

_ “She asleep?” she asks, briskly. _

_ “Sound. You know what she’s like, sleeps through anything.” Elsie answers. There is a pause. She sighs. _

_ “Trust her, June. She’s got a good little head on her shoulders. She’s a good girl.” June picks up her coat from where it lies on the kitchen table. _

_ Val takes it as her cue to run back to the spare room. She huddles under the covers and shuts her eyes tight. _


End file.
